The Trip of a Lifetime
By Vanessa Mancos - Nov 12, 2018
The castle is melting. Pink drips onto blue onto silver. They all run together then swirl down the asphalt. Pastel pools form in the holes where grass used to grow. It is a very hot day.
The pools are good for the birds. My mother hands me a piece of fried chicken. Pink drips from my mouth. There is a knife where her hand used to be and she slaps me across the face with it. You cannot spill on yourself. It is embarrassing. Now look at you. The chicken explodes inside of my stomach. I don’t like chicken anymore.
We wait in line for a very long time. I grow forty inches. My brother leaves and gets married and brings back his new bride. No one likes her. I am glad they are ignoring someone else. Pink drips off her nails. It follows us around the park like a slug trail. It’s nice.
This is the trip of a lifetime. That’s all there is to it.
We wrap ourselves in plastic and burrow inside a log. They heave us over the edge of the falls and take a picture. You can’t see anyone. I buy it and keep it in my pocket.
Now an ice cream. The dentist says my mouth is filled with rotting holes. I use a spoon made of garbage to scoop it over them carefully. I fill up every one. The holes burn and sizzle and double in size. Pink drips through my jaw onto my neck and shirt. My mother uses her knife-hand on my face again. The grass doesn’t know where it belongs. It grows through the holes in my face. I guess it’s okay.
I run my fingers over the edge of the photo in my pocket. If you listen closely, you can hear us screaming.